Every story has an ending
by Katerina Gwen
Summary: As we have all pretty much established that we felt the ending of Requiem was lacking and required a little more tying up I have decided to write my own version of the ending. It includes a part directly whenRequiem ends as well as an epilogue set a while after. I have tried to cover as many characters as possible as I find even on this site many only cover Lena's ending.
1. Success

***So as we've all pretty much established that we felt the ending of Requiem was lacking and was in need of being tied up a little bit better I decided to write my own version of the ending. It includes a small episode directly after where Requiem finishes as well as an epilogue quite a while after maybe 5 years later. I also feel that a lot of the epilogue type pieces on here only really sum up what happened to Lena which I find a little frustrating as they are so many other characters who also need closure. Therefore I have tried to find cessation for as many characters as possible. I am also a firm believer that not all endings are happy so this contains a mix of your classic happy endings combined with a few melancholy moments***

Grace scrabbles over the tangle of rubble, broken glass and wire shouting wildly as she goes. I have never seen her so vibrant and full of life. It is now that I fully understand the extent of Gracie's resistance. She was a born resister. Her stubborn silence was her own muted stand against life with the cure. Against our lack of choice and opportunity, our lives mapped out in front of us from the day we were born removing all chance for faith and judgement. But as we tore down the walls and allowed freedom to flow back into Portland, Grace's private rebellion disintegrated into cries of pleasure and joy.

I struggled behind her, striving to keep up with her stealthy movements as she rushed effortlessly over the pile of debris and scree. Her little head bobbed up and down as her slight form dodged fellow people climbing the heap. Her head disappeared into a throng of people tearing determinedly at the cement. My heart hammered a pounding rhythm in my chest as panic and dread flooded every inch of my body. I couldn't loose Grace, not now, not after I had just got her back, not now we had succeeded. My eyes wildly scanned the crowds of people rushing around me searching for that tangled web of matted hair that belonged to my Grace. I was on the edge of hysteria when I heard it.

A bubbling cry filled with elation and the promise of liberty. Desperately I focused on the ecstatic cheer blocking out every other noise and sight until all there was, was her laugh. Blindly I stumbled onwards drawn towards Grace's spirited call. I burst forwards onto the precipice of what once was the wall that banished love into the Wilds and I saw them.

Their heads were bent together as if devising a conspiracy. An unruly mass of burning autumn leaves tussled in the wind contrasting with the twisted lacework of sandy locks. As if he could sense my penetrating gaze he raised his eyes towards mine. An arrogantly beautiful smile crooked across his face and I could feel the corners of my mouth defying gravity and pulling upwards so that my face mirrored his.

Looking into those pools of golden honey that were his eyes I was finally certain of one thing. Whatever happened in the future I knew Alex would face it with me. In that fleeting moment I finally understood the reality of amor deliria nervosa. When Alex infected me I intrusted him with my heart and he gave me his. We were each other's guardians. We would do anything to protect the fragile heart we had been granted, even die. The disease was deadly.

As all moments do, it fluttered briefly between both of us then evaporated just as quickly. But it was long enough for us both to realise that our future was together.

Alex then bent and swooped Grace swiftly onto his muscular shoulders in one fluid movement. Perched high above the ground on Alex's shoulders Grace babbled excitedly but neither Alex nor I were listening. Without loosing each other's gaze we gravitated towards each other.

Slotting my hand into Alex's we looked out over the Wilds, which rolled out lazily before our eyes. His large tough hand grasped my thin wiry extremity that had been weathered by the Wilds tenderly, and we stood just like that until the sunset and longer, two pieces of a puzzle fixed together never to be separated.


	2. Life after the Cure

It's peculiar how time erases and dissolves memories and situations as easily as a rubber removes a faded pencil sign. How moments and events, which at the time were weighted with importance and significance, fade into a mist of oblivion and dreams. Life without choice is merely a distant recollection, a dim anamnesis soon to wither away and shrivel into a myth. Time continues to roll on, carrying on its back new events, successes and horrors. Old problems are replaced with new issues. New disasters displace old failures. Fresh lives take over old ones.

In this way life when the cure was forced upon all and love was a forbidden a disease is beginning to disintegrate into a mere memory. It shall never truly be forgotten but life has a mysterious way of carrying on, developing and changing.

We did not just take down the walls of Portland; we succeeded in our ultimate task. We breached every wall the cure helped establish and from the wreckage of materials and people a new society budded. A society that flourished with passion; feeding off love and hatred. A society that revolved around opportunity and the freedom to choose. The liberty to choose of course led to civilisation with the opportunity to have the procedure or to deny it and live a life ruled by your emotions.

I am not trying to say that life now is perfect and sublime because it is far from it. From the remains of a revolution power hungry leaders seize the tatters of what once was a civilisation and model the remains into their own ideal society to pilot and direct. Nor however am I trying to stay that life is no better because it is. We have choice. Not just to love or not to love but to live where or as we wish, talk to whomever we want, go where we want when and how we want. We have freedom.

Alex and I embraced that freedom with open arms and ran with it as far as we could.

***Work in progress***


	3. Running

As my feet hammered against the pavement pain shot through my body continuously. My lungs hammered repeatedly against my ribcage, my heart thumped out a pounding rhythm, picking up my feet was like attempting to budge metal melded to the earth. My muscles ached with fatigue and oxygen deprivation making each step an inconceivable challenge. Drawing in yet another quivery breath my lungs pushed relentlessly at the bones, which caged them in, my heart punched violently outwards against my fragile yet impenetrable skin, my muscles contracted in an agonising manner.

However, just as quickly as it arrived I passed through the wall and into the lush, fresh fields of the other side and freedom. I quickly found my rhythm as I breezed effortlessly through the labyrinth of winding streets that created the town of Portland. The wind tangled and danced a waltz with my hair as I ran home. Home to what was once referred to as the Wilds.

Running has always been my way to unwind and release any tension encased in my body into my surroundings. It always makes me feel free, euphoric and strangely invincible. But it has never been quite the same since I stopped running with Hana. Although running still liberates me it is tainted with a niggling sensation of heartache and disappointment.

Running was our thing. Running was what Hana and I did. Our relationship was based on running. The common ground let out friendship bloom into love. What Hana did to Alex and I was entirely wrong and sickening. It nearly destroyed me. But I loved Hana irrevocably and when you love someone that much they can stab you a million times drawing copious amounts of blood and you will still be able to find forgiveness in your heart because amor deliria nervosa blinds you.

Thinking of Hana sends a new sensation of pain through me. A pang of longing, and sorrow for the friend I lost. I haven't seen Hana since the day we conquered Portland, our first of many victories. I have tried to find her with no avail. All I can hope for is that she is alive and at peace because I doubt I will ever be able to find her.

My breathing had become more laboured and strenuous as I thought of Hana but when my eyes fell upon my home all anguish was lifted temporarily from my soul. A little cottage nestled in the forest outside of Portland was now what I called home. As my bounding leaps brought me closer to the house I saw them playing elatedly in the long grass.

Within moments they noticed me and in turn all three began lope towards me. Gracie reached me first her hair flailing wildly around her as she ran delighted little circles around me. Raven trotted eagerly behind her older sister before leaping into my arms. Clutching my little girl tight I nestled my face into her hair that smelled sweetly of soap. Raising my eyes I diverted my attention from my children to the final person approaching me. As our eyes met my heart swelled with delight and pleasure. It was moments like this that I appreciated most; when my family was together, happy and smiling. It was for these individual moments, which we fought for those years ago.

Using my spare arm I grabbed Alex's shirt and yanked him towards me. His eyes widened in shock before his cocky little grin lit up his face. Leaning towards him our lips met in a tender, delicate kiss.

"Lena?"

And just like that, the moment shattered. I would know that voice for the rest of my life. The articulation, intonation and inflection of that voice would always be burned into the very fibres of my memory. Whirling around the identity before me matched the voice. Hana.


	4. Closure

Hanna had always been attractive. Her slight, effete frame was complemented nicely by her mass of tousled golden locks. Her eyes always alight with life and a yearning to experience and push the limits. No one could ever deny that Hanna was pretty. I on the other hand was gawky and mediocre on every possible level. It still surprises me even now that Alex noticed me not Hanna all those years ago when he spotted us running through Portland. He seemed to be the only person capable of seeing through my normality and discovering something special deep inside me.

However now, Hanna is no longer simply charming to the eye, she is ravishing. She seems to blaze with passion and life from within, exuding radiance and euphoria. Her eyes are like precious stones embedded into porcelain catching the sunlight and twinkling sweetly. Her lips are fuller and appear to enfold like a brilliant red rose. Everything about her is enhanced. Every inch of her radiates delirium.

It was only then that I noticed the man standing behind her. His arm wrapped both protectively and lovingly around her waist. His eyes also shining with infatuation verging on insanity.

I could almost hear the cogs and bolts whirring in my brain as I attempted to untangle and decipher the scene before me. Confusion spread its misty tendrils through my mind blurring all sense of the present. I couldn't understand. Hanna was cured. Hanna could not be infected. Yet all the signs point to it.

"I don't understand, how? You… you were cured. You were one of… them. But…" Before I even made the conscious decision to speak to her my brain made that decision for me and I found myself spluttering as I stood perplexed and mystified.

"Lena you of all people know that the cure isn't one hundred percent effective. I was cured but they couldn't take it away from me. They couldn't take my love away." Hanna's voice was quiet, trembling and her eyes glistened, no longer with elation but tears filled with sorrow and regret. "They couldn't take you away."

And just like that all the disgust and contempt I had spent years building and weaving into every fiber, cell and atom in body evaporated dispersing into nothingness. What Hanna did to me was despicable, unforgivable even; it nearly cost me my life and so much more. It nearly cost me Alex. For years merely the thought of her physically repulsed me. Yet here she was standing in front of me and all I can feel is a dull aching in my chest. A deep primitive longing to hold her close to me.

"I... I should leave." Hanna whispered tentatively as she began to creep backwards cautiously like defenseless prey attempt to escape their doom. Her faint mummer shattered my reverie abruptly awakening me from my musings.

The thought of her departure sent me into a crazed panic. My eyes locked onto hers desperately as if they were attempting to grab out and hold her in place. My arms lifted from my sides shaking and vibrating unrestrained. My voice came out a high-pitched squawk rising ever higher through the octaves, "No, no, you can't… don't… please…"

Because no matter how much what Hanna did damaged me irrevocably, I loved her and when you love someone, there is nothing they can do that can reverse your love. They can stab you in the back time and time again but each time you can look beyond it and see the slightest sliver of the future with them beside you.

I stumbled towards her desperately and seized her in a fierce embrace. My wiry, weathered arms squeezing her tightly, enveloping her in a cocoon of love. As we stood arms and legs entangled we both released our individual inner turmoil in great harrowing sobs. Tears dripped down our cheeks endlessly leaving us both sodden and exhausted. We cried away the past and our previous mistakes leaving only a future full of friendship to live.


	5. Tack

Tack POV

Each foot pounds methodically into the snow with a bland crunch, creating a repetitive thumping which drills and wriggles it's way into my brain. Each individual crunch brings with it a new wave of misery and self-loathing. The wind whistles around me attempting to dance with my clothes and hair yet they refuse it's merry offer weighed down with both heartache and ice, which has embedded itself into everything in these bitter temperatures. Instead my clothes remain stiffly plastered against my body seemingly not housing any warmth. My hands fumble foolishly with the knife in my palm as I try to carve a slash into a near by fur tree to save me getting lost on the return journey, if there is one and I'm not frozen death.

When did you become a whiny, piteous shit head Tack? He can almost hear her harsh bark of a voice asking him the question. And my answer my dear? Since I lost you. Since you left me here to live on this earth alone.

I can see my target taking shape in front of me. Two arching, magnificent trees framing the rounded boulder before the glistening frozen lake, which stretches endlessly out beyond them. Trudging towards them I dig my hands deep into the depths of my pockets in search for gloves as the debacle with the knife has left them numb and frozen into claws. Crap, I must have dropped them while getting out the knife.

Idiot. Not only are you traipsing out here in the middle of a blizzard to feel sorry for yourself in front of a rock you call a grave, you're acting like an idiot and forgetting every basic lesson we learnt in our time in the Wilds. Her voice echoes through my head again, a ghost haunting my every movement. The voice is right though, just as she always was. Always right. And annoyingly cocky about it too.

I let my knees fold beneath me in my weakness as I let my mind uncover all my memories of her. Her hair streaming behind her in the wind like a river winding down a mountain. Her thin, lean arms cradling Blue as a baby. Holding her together like glue as she sobbed in his arms night after night weeks after Blue died. No one else ever saw her like that. He was the only one she ever dropped her guard for and revealed her emotions to. Even to him they were limited times though, only moments of extreme, deep emotion would she worm her way into his arms and cry.

Glancing up my eyes fall upon the words engraved on the rock. "Raven: To fly we have to fall first". The only slight consolation I have now is that thin sliver of a thought. Raven, my heart, my soul, my love, you fell for us. You fell in order to let others fly.

Without another thought I heave myself up and begin the long march back to the homestead. Looking in front of me all I see is a bleak, endless stretch of grey. Oblivion. Because that is all my life is now, without her, a mist of oblivion. I no longer live my life; I merely exist. As I watch the sunset I can no longer appreciate its colorful splendor. As I look out over what was once called the Wilds and see it's raw, untamed richness, I barely notice it. Everything is neutral because all I can think about is how you aren't there to observe it with me.

My sorrow filled thoughts seemed to carry me home as suddenly the homestead was there in front of me looming out of the gloom like a distant memory. Smoke spirals mysteriously from the chimney in little plumes and puffs before dissolving into the atmosphere. The echo of chattering and laughing reaches my ears as I move towards the building. I hesitate outside the door peering upwards at the sign painted above the door.

"Raven's Place" is scrawled in black paint in a large arch above the door. Seeing your name their above the door fills me with a sensation verging on satisfaction because I know you would be proud of what I have achieved here. Passing through the door I slam it shut tight behind me locking out the piercing weather. Turning down the hall I head towards the dining room where the fire is roaring. I know in there I will find Hunter and Bram swigging out of a bottle of whisky roasting their feet by the fire. People will be cleaning up after dinner, others wrestling the kids into bed. Everyone will be doing something, buying his or her keep. This is what I have done for you Raven; I have kept your memory alive and kept your homestead breathing, because there is one thing you have always been wrong about, the past is most certainly not dead.


	6. Julian

**Julian POV**

Every morning the sun rises, the earth turns and our lives keep on ticking by. Eventually at the end of the day the sun sets and the world seems to shut down and dive into hibernation. Every day the same process repeats itself. The process spins in a continuous circle even if you are not willing to turn with it. No matter what is occurring in your own personal bubble of life, the world stills turns with the sun continually rising and setting. Many years ago that's all my life was; a monotonous, wearisome slog. I would spend each day simply going through the motions each day brought.

Today nothing is dull or tiring, every moment is a rare, divine jewel to be treasured. Each passing second, every essential breath of air is precious and I could not regard each one with more value. It is almost as if I have a new, youthful pair of eyes to view the world through. Everything is more vivid and colorful; everything is enhanced.

Everyone knows my story. Everyone knows me. Julian Fineman. Son of Thomas Fineman. Cancer sufferer. Runaway. Rogue. Me. One time in my life I believed whole-heartedly in the cure and all it could bring, then she came along and awoke me from my slumber. Lena.

Lena found me when everything in my world was splintering into thousands of tiny fragments and revealed a parallel world filled with the opportunity to love. Lena taught me to observe the world from a new angle, she taught me to live. For that I will always be grateful to her. For that a part of me will always love her.

I understand now that what I thought was true, mutual love was in fact not. Lena never truly loved me in the full sense of the word. She cared for me and I do not doubt that she grew fond of me but everything was an emotion conjured in order for her to deal with the loss of her other half, Alex. She created her feelings in attempt to remedy and heal her broken heart.

I used not to be able to see that. I couldn't see that she didn't deliberately hurt me. I didn't understand that it was her coping mechanism, her way of continuing to live. Those days when I was blind, were full of darkness and turmoil. For many, the years immediately after the walls of our old society were torn down, were utopia, however for me they were times full of anger and hatred and bitterness. The alcohol, the drugs, the girls, they only helped twist and warp my soul into an endless abyss of fury and resentment for Lena.

But then one day, my vision cleared. The mist of red cleared from in front of my eyes and I was infected with the disease once again. It was through finding love again that I found forgiveness for Lena. I realized that if I lost this woman who had captivated my heart and I hers equally, I could not exist without finding some type of antidote, just as Lena did.

The thing about my wife and I is this; we are so perfectly opposite and wrong for each other, that our contradicting oppositeness cancels out forming a beautiful, discordant harmony.

Jumping out the shower I slip into a suit and go down stairs taking them to at a time. I know, because I looked in the mirror, that my tie is wonky and my hair is bristling like a hedgehog. However what I know, without even glancing in the mirror, is that I have a smile plastered crazily on my face and happiness exuding from eyes because in the next door room my pair is making me toast just the way I like it and when I will bound into the kitchen her face will light up with pleasure. But the highlight of it all which makes my heart smile from within is that she is my pair for life, because we fell in love and chose each other.


	7. Annabel

Annabel POV:

Pain comes in a thousand forms and each hurts to different degrees in different ways. Throughout my life I have experienced an enormous variety of pain through loss, rejection, physical injury. Yet none of it compares to how I felt when she cut me from her life and I realised what I have become. Lena's words sliced through my soul as easily as a knife could puncture my body.

Today, like everyday, I woke up with that same searing ache pumping through my heart, which radiates from my core out to my very extremities. An ache of pure sorrow, loss and despair. Everyday I awake with this sensation yet everyday I ignore it and bury it deep below where I can no longer find it. I bury it deep inside me next to the woman I left behind in the Crypts.

My time in solitary confinement changed who I am and not all for the better. I barely remember that woman who experimented with pancake flavours for the hell of it, who played with her daughters, the woman who put her family before herself. I am no longer that woman and no matter how much I hate who I have become, you cannot change who you are, not even for love.

When we took down the wall and Lena re-entered my life, I was deluded that I could change, that I wouldn't let her down again. I made promises to her that I did not keep. I promised to be a part of her life again, to make up for all the time we had spent apart, to love her as much as she deserves to be loved. But that obsessive, driven side to my character allowed me to let her down, again.

My whole life has been consumed and wasted by the cause. I have let it override who I am and now I don't even no who I am anymore. Am I the virtuous woman who fought for freedom I like to think I am? Or am I a woman driven deranged by rejection and torture striving in vain for a dream, utopian society? I don't know who I am but I do know that as soon as I escaped from the shit hole called the Crypts my first destination should have been Lena and Rachel, not the resistance. When I rescued Lena from almost certain doom I should have told her who I was and never let her go. After the wall came down I should have made up for all the lost time between Lena and I. I should have been there for my daughter but instead I was here. I choose my country over my daughter, a decision I shall regret until I am wasting under the earth.

Sitting here as the head of the Free World I don't even know what is right anymore. I have fought for so long for the right to choose that I am no longer sure that I am on the right side. I have grown to learn that love is a disease. A deadly, ruthless disease, which is potent enough to send thousands insane, to start a war, to turn family against family. After all, our revolution was in the name of amor, and did that not cause a battle? Did it not cause humans to slaughter each other? Did it not drive us to commit unthinkable crimes? All in the name of love.


End file.
